100 Themes Challenge
by BrokenLyrium
Summary: To get myself back into the habit of writing, I'm going to attempt the 100 Themes Challenge, and I've chosen the world of Thedas as my victim. The pairings and stories jump around from game to game. Smut chapters will be labeled.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first time really writing my Adaar. She's so childish sometimes, I just love it.

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition  
Characters: The Iron Bull and F!Adaar  
Word Count: 535

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The first thing he noticed about her was how she seemed to be in multiple places at once. You could barely walk the room without hearing someone whisper to another about how she introduced herself right away, chittering for only seconds with a person before moving onto the next. If there was one thing the Iron Bull could count on, it was that their newly appointed Inquisitor would have no trouble making herself known around the keep. She was speaking with the scribe girl, Josephine, waving her hands excitedly and coming very close to hitting the poor woman more than once. When the girl stepped back, excusing herself, he could hear her apologies over the crowd before she turned away. Her eyes locked onto him immediately. It was almost a chore to not notice his hulking figure as he towered over the other men in the room, and if his height wasn't enough his horns certainly were. The Inquisitor made a beeline toward him, easily weaving through the crowd with long legs and swaying hips.

She had light grey skin, almost silver, with shining white hair that fell to her shoulders and curled around her face. Her horns had been shorn off, as the Qun were known to do to saarebas, but they had been capped with gold bands encrusted with emeralds. She had puckered scars around her lips from where the thread had long ago been pulled from her mouth, which was now turned up in a friendly smile. Mostly he noticed her height, how she towered over the others in the same way he did. In fact, standing in front of him, she was nearly as tall as him, barely having to tilt her head back to look at him. The only way he could describe the look on her face was excitement, and maybe a bit of relief. Her eyes, a bright yellow surrounded by black, skimmed over his face, his horns, the rest of him, back to his horns. Realizing she was blatantly staring, she laughed and took a step backwards.

"I apologize," Her hands once again began working, waving in short, quick circles. "It's just been so long since I've seen another _Tal-Vashoth_. I was beginning to think I was alone here." she added, looking around at the faces that surrounded them. Some stared almost unabashedly, while others turned away and hid their whispers behind their hands. The realization hit him almost immediately. In a sea of shorter people with exponentially more political power than her, she found in him a friend, a somewhat familiar face at the very least. He couldn't have stopped the smile that spread on his face even if he tried.

"The Iron Bull, at your command, Inquisitor." he introduced himself, finishing with a dramatic bow. His horns came dangerously close to clubbing an elf in the face, and the man hurried himself and his partner out of harm's way. But the Inquisitor laughed, replying with a curtsy of her own. She had no skirt to grasp, and settled for the tails of her leather duster, fanning them out and waving them like wings.

"Basa," she giggled. "Basa Adaar. I do hope I don't disappoint you."


	2. Complicated

"Why haven't you killed me yet?"

Willow wasn't sure how she should react to the smile that spread across the assassin's face. She knew he had expected the question, but maybe that was his cue, as they both trailed behind the group on their way back to camp. Night was beginning to set, the moon hanging low in the sky, but they had a long walk still to their tents, and so their feet kept moving. Although Alistair had expressed more than once his distrust of Zevran, he seemed to be rather unconcerned their leader was speaking privately with him several yards behind the group. Said assassin was now laughing to himself, placing a tawny hand on his hip as he walked. Her eyes shot down to his blade, oh so close, and her own hands moved instinctively.

"I could ask you the same," came his response. "Or, rather, why didn't you kill me when I gave you the chance?"

Willow hadn't expected that—though, her mind told her, she really should have—and chewed on her lip as she thought about it herself. She didn't really trust him at her back, and neither did she see anything particularly special in him, beyond his skill with knives and locks.

"Our company is so small," she decided. "We needed the help, so I guess I was just taking it where I could find it."

He laughed, loudly, enough to cause Alistair to stop and turn toward them. He looked between Willow and the currently preoccupied assassin, his brow furrowed in disapproval. He started walking again only when his fellow Warden gave a small nod that she was in no danger at the moment. He turned his back on them again, but his hand remained on the hilt of his sword. Zevran had finished his giggle fit and added, "Forgive me, but I don't find that answer to be satisfactory. Perhaps you'll want to try again?"

Now Willow was irritated. She scowled at him, still walking beside her with that damned grin on his lips and expecting an answer to a question she had original asked him. She took several steady breaths—which only further amused her traveling companion—and tried to think of an answer to satisfy him. He was slowly looking more and more triumphant as the silence continued.

"It's…." she really didn't want to say that word, and yet it hung off her lips, leaving an almost bitter taste in her mouth. It was a cheap answer, and yet it seemed to be the one he wanted to hear.

"Complicated?" he offered with a smug look. Willow shrugged, trying to hide her irritation.

"That's one way to put it." She wrung her hands together, freed from the sweaty nightmare of her leather gauntlets. Her fingers worried the gold ring on her left hand, its shine dulled by dirt but still a gleaming gold. "I'm just tired of watching people like us die."

Now he looked confused. "'People like us?'"

"I'm not saying we're the same or anything," she said, trying to figure out what she meant. "I just…I've seen so my elves die by human hands. I wasn't about to do the same." She didn't want to look at his face, and his continued silence only worried her. "Look, I know what you might be thinking, but in any case, I answered my own question for you, so I think I deserve an answer."

He chuckled again, damn him, and quickened his steps. "Complications, my dear Warden," was his reply, and Willow seriously contemplated placing a well-aimed arrow in his back.


End file.
